


Stardust

by thegrimmgrimm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stardust (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stardust, F/M, M/M, Marauders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimmgrimm/pseuds/thegrimmgrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially, James is Tristan and he's trying to woo ~the lovely Victoria~ <br/>Remus is his friend from town and goes with him to find his mother(/the star) and to keep him out of trouble. Which, as it turns out, is impossible, as Sirius is rather put out at having been knocked out of the sky and would rather do pretty much anything other than meet this ~Victoria~. Beyond the wall in the kingdom of Stormhold, pursued by evil witches, captured by lightning pirates, racing against murderous princes, and all the while trying to find the truth about themselves, James and Remus race against time to get Sirius back to Wall before Victoria's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> I was so stumped on naming James' dad so I kind of went for the Charlus theory thing but not quite
> 
> I also didn't know what to call Victoria and Humphrey so I decided to stick with movie canon
> 
> most of the first chapter is essentially the movie so sorry for not being particularly original yet - i swear it diverges more later.

 

_A philosopher once asked “Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gave at the stars because we are human?” Pointless really. Now, “Do the stars gaze back?” That is the question. But I’m getting ahead of myself…_

_Our story really begins here, with a boy who lived in a village called Wall, So named for the wall that ran alongside it. A wall that, according to folklore, hid an extraordinary secret._

 

One clear spring evening years ago a long wall stretches across the countryside, separating a country town from a field edged by a dark wood. At a small break in the wall, a young man of around twenty argued with an old caretaker in a tall hat.

 

“I’m charged with guarding the portal to another world. And you’re asking me to just _let you through_?” The old man was remarkably agitated.

 

“Yes.” The young man replied sharply. “Because, let’s be honest, it’s a field. Look, do you see another world out there? No. You see a field. Do you see anything non-human? No. And you know why? Because it’s a _field_!” The phrase was punctuated with the rather childish stamp of his foot.

 

“Hundreds of years, this wall’s been here. Hundreds of years, this gap has been under twenty four hour guard.” The old man was not swayed, and not amused by the boy’s impatience.

 

“Well-” The boy interjected.

 

“One more word, and I’ll have you up in front of the village council.” The old man threatened.

 

The boy appeared to concede, looking disappointed, “Well, that sounds rather final. Better just go home then, I suppose.” The old man nodded along with his words, placated. The young man turned to walk away from the wall, back home.

 

“‘Night Charles, give my best to your father.” The old man also turned away to return to his post.

 

While his back was turned Charles spun and rushed through the wall, before the old man could do anything but yell after him to stop.

 

Charles ran off into the field and the woods behind them. He passed though the woods and was amazed to appear on the other side to see a small town, much like his own, but with a few incredible differences.

 

When he entered the bright and colourful marketplace he was faced with an unbelievable array of strange and interesting objects, creatures and people and what he could only have described as magic. 

 

Among these Charles found himself in front of a market stall running out of a yellow wagon, and a beautiful woman seated behind it. She had long dark hair and wore a simple yet elegant blue dress, and something about the way she held herself made her appear regal, despite the setting. He caught her eye and she gave him a smile. So enthralled he was by the woman, he missed the owner of the stall; a stout, middle-aged looking woman with patchwork clothes and loosely plaited, greying ginger hair, sneering at him from her own seat. 

 

“I don’t deal with time wasters.” He was startled by the short woman’s sharp words. She grimaced at his clueless manner and started off away from the wagon. “Get over ‘ere and tend this stall.” She called to the other woman. “I’m off to the Slaughtered Prince for a pint.” 

 

The first woman, whose eyes had not left Charles, strode over with a sly smile at the boy. “See anything you like?” She goaded.

 

“-Uhum, definitely.” She did not hide her amusement at Charles’ awkward reply and shy smile, laughing as he tried to recover.

 

“I mean - what I - what I meant was -” He composed himself. “These ones, the blue ones.” Charles gestured to the glass flowers at the stall. “How - how much are they?” 

 

The woman smiled at him again. “They might be the colour of your hair, or they might be all of your memories before you were three. I can check if you like.”

 

Charles squinted as he tried to tell whether or not she was joking.

 

“Anyway,” the woman continued, ignoring his confusion. “You shouldn’t buy the bluebells.” The woman picks up a small white flower and offers it to Charles. “Buy this one instead. Snowdrop. It’ll bring you luck.” 

 

“But what does that cost?”

 

“This one costs a kiss.” She tucks the flower into Charles’ jacket pocket and gestures for him to kiss her cheek. As he leans to do so she turns her head so their mouths meet in a passionate kiss.The woman breaks away with a smile. “Is she gone?” She looked briefly in the direction of the old woman, checking that she was out of sight.

 

“Follow me,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. As she walks away Charles catches a glint of sliver at her ankle. Tied to her is a fine chain, keeping her bound to the wagon. Charles bends to pick up the chain and the woman sees what has his attention.

 

“I’m a princess, tricked into becoming a witch’s slave. Will you liberate me?” Charles takes out a knife and cuts through the chain, but the severed ends magically rejoin to each other, leaving a short length of the chain in Charles’s hand, and the woman still trapped. She looks unsurprised. “It’s an enchanted chain. I’ll only be free when she dies. Sorry.” The woman tries to brush off the bitterness in her tone.

 

Charles voices his confusion. “Well, if I can’t liberate you, what do you want of me?” 

 

The sly smile returns as the woman pulls Charles into the yellow wagon, shutting the door behind them.

 

* * * * *

_The wall had successfully done it’s job of hiding the magical kingdom of Stormhold. The young man returned home that night, to England, hoping his adventure would soon be forgotten. But nine months later he received an unexpected souvenir._

 

The old man from the wall knocks steadily on the door of a small cottage. In his arm he carried a basket holding a warmly swaddled baby and a letter. Charles opens the door holding a lantern aloft and is shocked at the scene before him.

 

“This was left at the wall for you. It says here his name is James.” Charles took the baby, gazing at him in awe, and went inside with him, ignoring the knowing gaze of the old man.

 


End file.
